But Not Forgotten
by Kirayoshi
Summary: After Giant-Size AXM and other recent events. He thought that his teammates had abandoned her. He was wrong. Now Piotr Rasputin has rejoined the X-Men for one final mission. For those who were lost. For Katya. Chapter 4 up.
1. Love is Not a Victory March

Disclaimer: Marvel owns 'em, I don't. Trust me, you think I'd have let GSAXM end the way it did if I owned 'em? I don't think so!

Rating: PG for now.

Author's note: The following is a little bromide for the sour stomach left by the events of Joss Whedon's final X-Men arc. Spoilers, natch. Also some speculation regarding post-Messiah Complex stories. Word is that Magneto may be regaining his powers, so I'll work that in.

Honestly I haven't thought past the first chapter. Any ideas would be welcome.

Summary: He thought that his teammates had abandoned her. He was wrong. Now Piotr Rasputin rejoins the X-Men for one final mission. For those who were lost. For Katya.

…But Not Forgotten  
by Kirayoshi

Chapter one:

Love is Not a Victory March

_"Maybe I've been here before  
__I know this room, I've walked this floor  
__I used to live alone before I knew you  
__I've seen your flag on the marble arch  
__Love is not a victory march  
__It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah_

_Hallelujah, Hallelujah  
__Hallelujah, Hallelujah"_

_--Leonard Cohen (covered by Rufus Wainright)  
__"Hallelujah"_

He remembered the last time he ate, at a White Castle some seventy miles behind him. He didn't recall what the hamburger tasted like. He didn't care. He didn't know where he was going. He didn't even know what state he was in. Two days ago, he passed a sign that stated 20 miles to Mount Rushmore. So he was in South Dakota two days ago. That was the last time he bothered to check.

Which didn't bother him at all. He had no place he desired to be.

No, he mentally corrected himself. He did have one place he wanted to be. But that place was denied him.

That place was distancing itself from the Earth at near-light speed, and getting further every day.

And Scott just sat there, unmoved. All he would do was erect a statue at their headquarters, a monument to a heroine, and carry on as though she never once entered the Xavier Institute.

He almost wished he wasn't an atheist. He would have loved to have told Scott to go to Hell and meant it.

Kitty sacrificed everything to save the world. And he didn't even know if she was alive or dead. That's what truly galled him, the not knowing. Death would have at least brought closure. The promise of a reunion in another life. Again, if only he believed in such things...

He remained with the X-Men out of duty. He stood with his teammates during the hunt for the first mutant baby to be born since the terrible events referred to as M-Day. His encounter with Omega Red later hammered home the terrible truth that he no longer had a home in his native Russia. He rejoined the team when Scott relocated them to San Francisco. He joined the army of Earth's heroes against the Skrull invasion. And during that time, he reined in his emotions behind a wall of iron resolve.

But even his natural stoicism could only last so far. Every day brought small reminders of the love lost to him. A whiff of perfume, a favorite song on the radio, the sight of young lovers strolling along Fisherman's Wharf. He didn't even remember what it was that finally broke down the wall around his emotions, all he could remember was the wreckage of his room, and being restrained by Logan, Hank and Hisako. When Scott reprimanded him for his 'tantrum', he finally realized, with a shattering finality, that he could no longer remain with the X-Men. Especially a team being led by the man who essentially gave her up for dead without so much as an inquiry. His only response was a rapid fist (mercifully unarmored) to Scott's cheek, and the snarled, hate-filled words, "Consider that my resignation!"

Scott didn't even try to save her. That's what angered him above all else. He didn't even try. Scott kept saying that there was no way that they would be able to succeed. In a strange way, that almost didn't matter to Piotr. Scott didn't have to succeed. Piotr would have forgiven him if he had just tried.

So Piotr Rasputin departed from the Xavier Institute in an old van that Logan had given him as a birthday present years ago. He took with him some clothing, the few sticks of furniture he hadn't destroyed and his art supplies. He had spoken his farewells to Logan, who only nodded. He burned his bridges behind him, and never looked back.

That was two weeks ago. His van had become a makeshift home. He still had some money in his checking account from the sale of some of his paintings during his Piotr Nicholas period, so he could still live fairly comfortably. Not that it mattered much to him.

His painting supplies hadn't been unpacked once. He doubted that they would ever be unpacked.

Why should they? His muse had left him.

He glanced at his watch. Five fifty-three. It would be getting toward dinner time soon. Not that Piotr ever felt anything like appetite. He reminded himself to feed at regular intervals, to maintain his reserves. He had no particular desire to die. Even if he had no purpose in living.

Piotr took a cursory glance out the window to locate the next offramp from the highway--

Only to find nothing but blue sky, dotted with clouds, ahead of him. He glanced to the side, only to find more blue sky. He rolled down the window and peered out.

The van was hovering over the highway, some ten feet from the asphalt, the tires spinning ineffectively in the air.

"Magneto," he growled, "put me down now!"

"With relief," a familiar European voice called out from beneath the van. "I'd been holding your vehicle aloft for some time, I was wondering when you'd notice." Piotr cut off the engine as the van hovered briefly before slowly descending to the shoulder of the highway.

"I'll only warn you once," he muttered to his old adversary as he slowly removed himself from the van. "I don't wish to start a fight, but I will finish one."

"I'm not here to fight, my old friend," Erik answered, his voice almost grandfatherly, but still edged with the resolve that Piotr remembered the X-Men's nemesis having. "Indeed, I may be of service to you, if you'll hear me out."

"I see your powers are slowly returning, Erik," Piotr observed noncommittally. He addressed his former nemesis by his first name, hoping to maintain some civility. He maintained his flesh-and-blood form; if Magneto was again in full possession of his powers over magnetism, it would be safer to not face him in metal form.

Erik Lensherr smiled sadly at the former X-Man. "I am not quite the man I once was, Piotr," he answered cordially. "But 'tis enough 'twill serve. But please relax, we are no longer enemies."

"Many things are different, old friend," another voice greeted Piotr from behind. Piotr spun around, and found himself facing a blue-furred ally from his past. Gray catlike eyes peered out warmly from a leonine nose. "But there's one thing that hasn't changed. We still look after our own."

"Do you, Hank?" Piotr shouted, his patience worn to the nub. "What of Katya? When's the last time you checked in on her?"

"That, Peter," Hank McCoy answered, "is why we're here." Without another word, Hank pulled out a small cell-phone and flipped it open. "Transporter team," he spoke with mock-sweetness into the phone, "lock in on my signal. Three to beam up." Closing the cellular, he flashed a toothy grin, adding, "I always wanted to say that."

Before Piotr could protest, a shaft of iridescent energy surrounded his body. His vision faded and blurred as his molecular structure drifted apart, traveling along the beam to its point of origin.

* * *

  
"Four-ninety-eight—Four-ninety-nine—" she grunted out each number as the holographic shapes flew past her, targeting each one with her light pistol, sqeezing off shots with practiced ease. "Five-hundred!" With a victorious smile, she powered down the pistol, exited the targeting range and grabbed a towel and patted herself dry. She regarded herself in the mirror, locks of green hair plastered to her brow, matted with sweat. _Nothing like taking out five-hundred holographic "clay pigeons" to start a day, _she thought to herself.

Her daily target practice finished, Agent Brand returned to her office, just as the comm-alert flashed on her desk. She groaned inwardly; she suspected the reason for the page. Tapping her commlink key, she announced brusquely; "Brand. What's the bad news?"

"Dr. McCoy and Mr. Lensherr have arrived, Brand," an aristocratic female voice announced, "with Piotr. Who, I should add, is threatening to throttle my boyfriend even as we speak." Crashing sounds in the background confirmed that the newly-arrived "guest" was not pleased with his current situation.

"Understood, Frost," Brand answered. "I'll be down in ten seconds. Restrain him until I get there. I just need to collect someone. Brand out." She rushed out the door to confront her unwilling passenger.

Emma Frost turned back toward the enraged Russian, who wore a scowl on his metal face that could intimidate Logan. "I never thought that Scott would stoop to kidnapping," he glowered. "I don't care where you've taken me. If you don't return me, I'll bring this entire building down around your ears!"

"I'd advise agaist that," she answered, "as we're currently in geo-stationary orbit over the Earth, in SWORD's satallite headquarters." Piotr's face contorted further in a mask of cold anger that Emma had only seen once before, when he nearly bludgeoned the alien Ord to death for his imprisonment in Benetech. "Rage," he screamed then in voice of twisted metal, "I am made of RAGE!" She realized that she needed to diffuse the situation quickly. "Peter," she spoke as soothingly as she could as she shifted to her diamond-form, "I appreciate that you're upset. But there is a reason for us bringing you here, if you would please sit down and listen—"

Piotr lunged at her, knocking her onto the ground and grabbing her wrists with his hands, attempting to pin her to the floor. "You and Scott seem to be the ones who don't listen!" he bellowed. "I told you never to contact me again! All I want is to be left alone!"

"Typical," Emma snarled as she tensed her limbs, leveraging herself as she threw Piotr's weight off of her. "Thinking with your fists as usual. It's a good thing SWORD had the sense to send me down first." Rolling neatly to the side, she sprung to her feet and assumed a defensive posture against Piotr. "Always wondered if organic diamond could out-muscle organic steel."

"Stay out of my way, bitch," Piotr glared hard at Emma, his mailed fist reflecting the dim light of the chamber. "Diamond can still shatter!"

"And steel can still melt," Agent Brand's voice announced from the airlock behind him. Piotr turned around and faced Agent Brand, her eyes shielded by green-tinted glasses, her hands radiating enough heat to damage even Piotr's metal form. "Stand down, Rasputin. We just brought you here to talk."

Piotr regarded the two women before him. Each one powerful in her own right, he certainly didn't wish to antagonize them at the same time. He reverted back to flesh and blood. "And if I don't like what you have to say?" he asked, barely confining the rage in his voice.

"Then I'm sure we'd all be surprised," a warm, gentle voice trilled from behind Abigail Brand. A small lavender shape leapt upward, gliding on leathern wings toward Piotr, stopping just in front of him. Yellow eyes shone with wisdom and a faint merriment from behind his flat snout. "It is good to see you again, Peter."

The voice was warm and wise, oddly soothing. It reminded Piotr of actor Liam Neeson in the role of Aslan from the Narnia movies. Not at all the voice he imagined the being that hovered in front of him to possess.

"Lockheed?" he asked. "What are you doing here? And _talking_? You never talked before!"

"Oh I've talked before, Peter," Lockheed replied, and the words, Piotr noticed, were more sensed than heard. Like telepathic contact with Professor Xavier or Emma Frost, but not quite. "Just ask Wisdom. Of course then it was a great strain, and my voice was an ugly hoarse rasp." Lockheed perched gently on Piotr's shoulder, chuckling slightly. "Still, his expression was worth the pain in my throat."

"And you are still working for SWORD?" Piotr's voice took on an accusing tone.

"With, my friend," Lockheed explained, "not for. I needed their services, and they needed me to observe your team for them. Their psychics were well aware that Ord and the Breakworld were not done with the X-Men yet. I only agreed to their terms because it would allow me to protect Kitty."

Piotr glowered at the dragon on his shoulder, but the set in Lockheed's frame, and the way he lowered his head, indicated to the young man that the dragon was truly penitent, that he could trust Lockheed. "I wasn't able to offer my condolences," Lockheed continued, his voice sadder, more serious. "I was as connected to her as you were. She was the first living thing that I encountered after I was hatched. Her face became imprinted in my mind. That's why I seldom left her side ever since then."

"Thank you," Piotr answered, a deep resigned sorrow filling his voice. "But why was I brought here? Why didn't Scott respect my wishes to be left alone?"

"Because he knew, as did I," Emma interjected, "that if we went forward with this mission without you, you would have been even more furious."

Piotr started to speak, to question Emma's words, but found his thoughts lodged in his throat. He couldn't help but sense something akin to hope in Emma's voice. He began to grow dizzy with anticipation. Was she saying…

Lockheed craned his sinuous neck around so that he could look directly into his eyes. "We found her, Peter," he announced. "We found Kitty. She's alive. And we're bringing her back home."


	2. Thank You, Sir Isaac Newton

Chapter two

Thank You, Sir Isaac Newton

_Moses went walking with the staff of wood.  
(Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)  
Newton got beaned by the apple good.  
(Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)  
Egypt was troubled by the horrible asp.  
(Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)  
Mister Charles Darwin had the gall to ask.  
(Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)_

_--REM  
"Man On the Moon"_

"'Bout time you joined the party," the gruff guttural voice of one of Piotr's closest friends announced as he followed Emma Frost and Abigail Brand out of the lift and into the satellite's situation room, with Lockheed perched on his shoulder, his tail draped around his neck. He nodded at the speaker, who lifted a can of Canadian lager in greeting. Logan was wearing his regular blue-and-yellow uniform, minus the cowl. He sat back in his seat, his feet propped up on the table, and Piotr could almost imagine that at least two SWORD operatives had requested unsuccessfully that he remove his feet from the table.

As Piotr scanned the room around him, he recognized many of his former teammates. Kurt Wagner sat next to Logan, while Scott Summers busily compared notes with Hank McCoy and Erik Lensherr, and Hisako Ichiki, the young mutant code-named Armor, looked on pensively. Piotr regarded Scott disdainfully, noting with a sense of shadenfreude that he still bore the remnants of a livid bruise on his cheek where he had struck him. Ororo Munroe stood up from her seat next to Kurt and approached Piotr, saying, "It is good to see you again, Little Brother."

"Thank you, Ororo," Piotr nodded, grateful for her comfort. "I suppose I was too busy wallowing in my grief to consider yours, and for that I am truly sorry." Ororo said nothing more; she only smiled warmly and embraced her old friend, wordlessly assuring him that his apology was unnecessary.

"I take it that Shego told you the good news?" Hisako commented wryly, pointing her thumb at Agent Brand. Brand, for her part, glanced at the young Japanese girl quizzically, diplomatically 'failing' to understand her jibe.

Piotr inhaled slowly, maintaining his stoic calm. The last thing he wanted was to dare hope and have his hope destroyed. "I was told that you have a means of saving Katya. But how?"

"Take a seat," Hank offered him a chair near his, "and I'll be more than happy to explain." Piotr sat next to the mutant known to the world as Beast, and sat his hands in his lap. His face held an expression of rapt attention.

"As you are aware from the unfortunate events on Breakworld," Hank continued, removing the spectacles that sat perched on his muzzle and rubbing them with a tissue, "Katherine Pryde's body had reacted to prolonged exposure to the substance of the Breakworld missile. Evidently the unique metal is a common alloy on Breakworld, as evidenced by its extensive use in Benetech. As I recall, Peter, you found the metal even tougher and more durable than your armored form."

"Da," Piotr answered weakly. "During my imprisonment, I attempted to break down the doors, but they held fast. Given that I was often gassed unconscious, I hadn't given that much thought."

"I suspect it was a combination of factors," Hank mused, "both the gas and the metal's intrinsic strength. At any rate, due to her prolonged exposure to the metal, and her final heroic act of phasing the bullet through the Earth, Professor Reed Richards and I both theorized that she had bonded with the bullet."

"I know all that," Piotr said angrily, regarding the X-Men's leader with an icy stare that impressed even Emma. "Scott explained the facts in impassive detail when he refused to send a team to rescue her."

"I hope you're not implying," Scott answered with an edged voice, "that I simply abandoned Kitty."

"I'm not implying anything," Piotr spat out through grinding teeth, "I'm saying it loud and clear! YOU ABANDONED HER!"

"What would you have me do, Peter?" Scott challenged, standing up from his seat and leaning toward his accuser. "Waste more time and energy? More lives? As long as the bullet was still intangible, we had no way at our disposal then to extricate her."

"You didn't even try to save her!" Piotr's voice approached a roar as he stood up and leaned in his face, inches away from Scott. "Even if the attempt had failed, I'd have forgiven you if you had tried!"

"Easy, Peter," Kurt placed a gently restraining hand on Piotr's arm. "We're all on the same side here. Scott and Hank have been in contact with SWORD on a constant basis since Katchen's sacrifice. They've been doing everything possible to find a solution."

Scott sat back down, reining in his temper. "Peter," he spoke as gently as he could, reaching up to adjust his ruby quartz visor slightly, "I know what you've been going through. Maybe more than anyone here. No matter how much I love Emma, I'll never forget what it felt like to lose Jean. Not once, but twice." He could feel Emma's mind tense up at the mention of Jean, but she nodded warmly; Jean Grey was a part of his life, part of what made Scott who he was today. Part of what made him the man she loved. Whatever jealousy she harbored toward her late rival, Emma had vowed never to disparage Scott's feelings toward her again.

"I didn't give you the chance to grieve for Kitty," Scott continued. "I tried to compartmentalize her loss, just like I do everything else. I figured that we had more important battles to fight. I treated you like a resource, a weapon, instead of a person. I made the same mistake with you that I once accused Professor Xavier of making with me. And for that, I apologize."

Piotr regarded Scott levelly, before taking his seat. "I accept your apology. But that doesn't change matters. How can we save Katya from what is essentially a ten-mile coffin?"

"How do we even know she's not dead?" Ororo asked suddenly. "She was lost months ago. How could she possibly survive?"

Emma's eyes narrowed as she stared hard at Ororo. "I was in mental contact with her until the end," she answered hotly. "I remember how it felt to sense the dying thoughts of others before. The original Hellions, the millions who died at Genosha. I felt their deaths in my mind. When I lost contact with Kitty, it wasn't the same. She was alive at the moment that I lost contact. I don't know if that comforts you, but I do know she was still alive when the bullet passed through."

"I spoke at length with Professor Reed Richards on that very subject," Hank McCoy announced, taking over the lecture. "As many of you are aware, Richards worked with his longtime nemesis Victor Von Doom to save Kitty after the X-Men's encounter with the mutant assassins the Marauders disrupted her phasing powers to the point where her molecular structure threatened to discorporate entirely. As a result, Richards probably knows as much about the mechanism of Kitty's phasing ability as anyone alive. He and I also studied samples of Breakworld metal, which turns out to be a unique substance. As a tribute to Kitty's sacrifice, we chose to name the metal 'Prydonium'." Glancing slightly at Piotr he added, "I hope you don't consider that in bad taste."

"No, no," Piotr said quickly. "I'm sure she'd be flattered."

"I'm glad that you think so," Hank added. "Getting back on topic, Richards and I studied the Prydonium samples, combined with his knowledge of the function of her powers, and we determined that her molecular structure would be compatible with the substance. That may indeed explain why she found it difficult to phase through the metal to begin with." Piotr nodded, remembering when she first found him in the bowels of Benetech's sub-basements. She phased through nearly a hundred feet of this metal—this Prydonium—and needed to rest before bringing him up through that barrier again. Even when she was tired, she stood at his side, defending him against Nick Fury.

"If Richards' and my calculations are accurate," McCoy continued, "as long as her molecular structure is fused with the bullet, not only would she still be alive, but in a form of stasis, while automatically remaining in phased form, still intangible. Odds are that, should we be successful in extricating her from the bullet, she won't even have any memory of what happened to her since she first phased the bullet through the Earth."

Piotr released a sigh of breath he didn't know he was holding. His greatest dread was that somehow Katya was still conscious inside that missile. Unable to move, to communicate, to function in any meaningful way, imprisoned in a ten-mile long tomb of metal. An image of her trapped inside the bullet, screaming voicelessly as her mind spiraled into tortured madness, invaded his nightmares almost nightly since that terrible day. Even death would be preferable to such a fate. He felt relieved that his beloved would be spared that anguish.

Piotr then slumped in his chair as another concern entered his mind. "She may be alive, but then what? As you said, there's no way to extricate her from the bullet so long as it's still intangible."

"Ah, but there is a way," Erik spoke up. "There's me."

"You sure your powers are up for it, old man?" Logan grunted. He sat as far away from the man once known as Magneto as he could; he would never forgive him for the nearly irreparable damage caused when Lensherr drew the Adamantium from Logan's bones through his flesh.

"I'm prepared to do what it takes, Logan," Erik smiled slightly, refusing to answer Logan in kind. "I've worked with samples of the Breakworld metal that Dr. McCoy brought with him. They are strongly magnetic, so I am able to manipulate them. Once we rendezvous with the missile, I will take control of its molecular structure, towing it back to Earth. Once there, I will be able to draw the metal away from Kitty's molecular structure, restoring her body."

"Considering that you and the X-Men are usually trying to kill each other," Brand commented, "I find it hard to believe that you're doing this out of the goodness of your heart."

"It is true that my worldview differs from that of Xavier's students," Erik replied, "but Katherine Pryde is one of the finest people I've ever had the privilege to meet. Besides, there are currently less than two hundred mutants left. We can scarce afford to lose the best among us. You have my word, Agent Brand, that my sole purpose is the same as that of the X-Men; to save the life of a truly noble woman."

"And luckily for us," Hank continued after acknowledging Piotr's relief with a nod of his catlike head, "the unique properties of Prydonium make it easy to track, especially with SWORD's sophisticated sensors." Brand stepped up beside Hank, depressing a switch on a pointer she held in her hand. Immediately a three-dimensional holographic image appeared on the table, prompting Logan to remove his feet in surprise. The small blue-green sphere rotated serenely toward the center around the bright yellow disk of the sun.

"Here, obviously, is the Earth," Brand took over the lecture, "and this," she waved her pointer across the image and a white line tracked from one side of the image to the other, piercing the blue-green globe, "is the trajectory of the Breakworld bullet six months ago, when it was launched." The line continued to form past the 'exit wound' where the bullet left the Earth and sped further into space, until it started to curve.

"How is it curving?" Piotr asked. "From what I understand, the bullet was just an enormous mass of Prydonium. There was no steering, no control mechanisms at all. How is it able to turn?"

Hank arched his bushy brows as he regarded Piotr with a faint disapproval. "Peter, Peter, Peter," he scolded gently, "don't tell me you forgot everything I taught you in Physics 101 when you first enrolled in the Xavier School." Slipping effortlessly into 'teacher mode', he asked, "Can somebody please recite Newton's Law of Inertia?" A hand poked up from the other side of the table. "Yes, Hisako."

Hisako stood up from her seat. "An object at rest tends to stay at rest, and an object in motion tends to stay in motion, until acted upon by an external force," she answered brightly.

"A-plus, Hisako," Hank nodded, and Hisako smiled broadly. Logan merely smirked, adding, "Good one, kid," to his newest protégé.

"I understand what you're saying, Hank," Piotr continued, "but if the bullet's intangible, what forces can act on it to change its course?"

"Well, for starters," Hank explained, "the very act of phasing the bullet through the Earth retarded its speed considerably. The Prydonium's super-dense composition made its passage through the Earth a sufficient strain. Rather like whenever Kitty and Logan would spar, and she strained to phase through his Adamantium claws. The bullet's passage through the Earth reduced its speed to sub-light. From there, even a phased body is susceptible to gravity. Otherwise Kitty would have flown off the surface of the Earth the very time she phased."

"As you can see," Brand poked the end of the white line, causing it to magnify, "the bullet passed within the gravity field of a red giant star designated Kasterborous Alpha, and has now become a satellite of that star. It's far enough away that the star's heat won't affect it."

"Once we are in close enough proximity to the bullet," Emma explained to Piotr, "I will scan for her mind, while Erik maintains control of the Prydonium. We need you with us, Peter, to form a mental link. I'll be able to contact her, but you will be needed to more fully reach her. The fact that you two are very much in love will be enough of an impetus to bring her out of her stasis."

"There is one problem that I haven't mentioned yet," Brand observed. "Kasterborous Alpha happens to be within shouting distance of an unpleasant little corner of the galaxy. A little out of the way place that makes the Persian Gulf look like Woodstock."

Scott looked closely at the 3-D star charts again, and frowned as he recognized the system. "The Shi'ar Star Empire," he identified the nearby system.

"This will be an in-and-out mission," Brand continued. "The Shi'ar isn't a stable region at the best of times, and from what Hank's told me, it's a primed powder-keg these days. But if we move quickly we can retrieve the bullet without the Imperial Guard or anyone else being the wiser.

"This is purely a volunteer mission. Erik and Hank have already agreed to join us. And Peter, we need you with us in order for this crazy scheme to work. But we have the bullet tracked and have confirmed its location. It's waiting for us to send a ship out to retrieve it. Once we have the bullet back, Erik and Emma can do their thing and hopefully Kitty will be back among the living." Affixing every person at the table with a gimlet stare, she asked, "Who else is with me?"

Without a second's hesitation, Piotr stood up. "I'm with you," he announced. "For Katya."

"I think I speak for everyone at this table," said Emma Frost solemnly, "when I say that we would all happily volunteer for this mission."

"I don't like leaving one of our own behind," Logan grunted. "I'm in."

"As am I, fraulein," added Kurt.

"I would gladly do everything it requires," Ororo declared, "to bring Kitten safely home." The others nodded and muttered full agreement with the words of their comrades.

"In that case," Abigail Brand announced, "you may all consider yourselves advisors to SWORD for the duration."

She glanced sidelong toward Piotr and flashed a rare smile. "Let's go get your girlfriend."


	3. Omnes Pro Uno, Unos Pro Omnibus

(Author's Note: I got the idea for the oxygen farm from the movie Sunshine. A very cool science fiction thriller. I'm also taking some liberties with X-Men continuity. I'm banking on Rogue returning to the team in the near future. At least I'm hoping she will.)

Chapter three

Omnes Pro Uno, Unos Pro Omnibus

_"And now, gentlemen," said D'Artagnan, without stopping to explain his conduct to Porthos, "All for one, one for all—that is our motto, is it not?"_

_"And yet--" said Porthos._

_"Hold out your hand and swear!" cried Athos and Aramis at once._

_Overcome by example, grumbling to himself, nevertheless, Porthos stretched out his hand, and the four friends repeated with one voice the formula dictated by D'Artagnan:_

_"All for one, one for all."_

_--Alexandre Dumas_

_"The Three Musketeers"_

* * *

"Would someone kindly explain to me," Agent Brand groused as she plucked a daisy from its bed and smelled it, "why your team chose to christen my ship the Abdul Alhazred?"

Agent Brand and Hank McCoy were standing in the ship's oxygen farm, essentially an enormous greenhouse. For all the technology, both Earth-based and alien, that SWORD commanded, terrestrial plant life was still the most efficient method of manufacturing oxygen available. The greenhouse provided enough oxygen to permit a crew of fifty humans to breathe comfortably for the duration. With the ship's current crew of twenty-five (Brand, Peter, Scott, Emma, Logan, Kurt, Hank, Erik and seventeen standard SWORD crewmembers), excess oxygen was stored in specialized tanks for emergencies. The farm was located in the dead center of the ship, arguably it's most protected area, and was Agent Brand's favorite spot to meditate. And to occasionally steal private moments with Dr. McCoy.

"I believe Kurt chose the name," Hank McCoy explained patiently, "in honor of Kitty."

"So Kitty's a Lovecraft fan?" Brand asked as she straightened out her collar, her pale green eyebrows furrowing like a seagull's wings.

"Not that I'm aware," Hank smirked, his leonine features contorted into a knowing smile. "I wasn't there at the time, but from what Kurt and Peter told me, one night during Kitty's first year with the X-Men, when Peter's little sister Illyana asked for a bedtime story, Kitty created one off the top of her head, in the Arabian Nights vein. She cast herself as a heroic pirate, with Peter as her first mate and other members of the X-Men in key roles. And Pirate Kitty's sailing vessel was called the Abdul Alhazred. And no, I don't know why she chose that particular name."

"Kid had an imagination on her."

"That she does, Abigail," Hank quietly corrected her use of the past tense, and Brand caught that verbal cue. She lowered her head in mild contrition. "And God willing, she will again," Hank added.

Abigail Brand stared levelly at the man standing beside her as he leaned against the apple tree, the largest single plant in the farm. The body of a predator, the mind of an Einstein and the soul of a balladeer, all rolled up into one infuriating package. Before she met him, she had never known anyone so frustrating, so perplexing...

So intriguing...

She shook her head violently, willing herself to remain on topic. "Even if we do manage to retrieve the bullet," she reminded Hank, "there's still no guarantee that we'll be able to save her. Heck, we're not even positive that she's still alive."

"I know," Hank answered solemnly. "At least we'll have closure. At least we'll know if she is truly alive in there. And if there is, I can guarantee you that we will move heaven and earth to save her."

Abigail Brand lifted a hand that could burn flesh and bone and rend cinderblock, and gently stroked the soft fur of Hank's left cheek. "Wouldn't have it any other way, Hank," she smiled at him, briefly leaning into his arms. "C'mon," she continued as she broke the embrace and walked toward the door of the oxygen farm, "we'll be in intercept range of the bullet in a few hours, we'd better alert the rest of the crew."

* * *

He stood motionless in the ship's observation lounge, staring at the enormous view screen, unmoved by the grandeur that unfolded before him.

Away from the Earth, from the light pollution of San Francisco's skies, the stars shone with an almost ethereal brilliance. The Abdul Alhazred was far enough away from the Earth that the familiar constellations began to distort, as stars closer to the Earth seemed to move further out of their positions in the heavens.

Piotr concentrated on one star, in the upper-right corner of the view screen. Abigail Brand identified that star as Kasterborous Alpha. The star that a ten-mile long missile of alien metal was now orbiting.

The star that Katya was orbiting.

Nothing else mattered to him. Only the need to find that giant bullet and save its prisoner. Or at least know for certain if she can be saved, or indeed is still alive. He hoped that he was prepared for the worst, but prayed to a God whose existence he always doubted that salvation was indeed a possibility. He could easily hear Kurt's gentle voice chiding him, that 'salvation is always a possibility; one just has to reach for it'.

He wanted to believe that. He wanted to believe in something, anything that could convince him that the events of his life had meaning. Illyana's death, the fall of Genosha, his sacrifice to destroy the Legacy virus turned against him into a means of destroying all mutants, his finding Katya again only to lose her.

He wanted to believe in something. He just didn't know what.

He felt a slight weight descend upon his shoulders, felt the brush of a leather wing against his cheek. "I never had the chance to thank you," Lockheed's voice cooed gently in his ear. "You gave Kitty back a part of her soul that had been lost for a long time."

"Did I?" Piotr asked the dragon remorsefully. "Maybe she'd have been happier if she remained in Chicago, pursued her degree, put the X-Men behind her. At least she'd have been safer."

"Until the Breakworld destroy the Earth," Lockheed reminded him grimly. "She was where she needed to be to do what only she could do. Just as we are where we need to be to save her. Don't second guess destiny, my friend. She was there to save you, and you'll be there to save her. The love that you both share comes full circle to this moment."

Piotr had no answer for the dragon's council. He simply returned his attention to a single star in the upper-right quadrant.

"Lockheed," he asked after a few moments. "Hmph, like that's your real name."

"It's as real as any other name I have," the dragon answered amusedly. "My true name, the name my progenitors gave me, is a discharge of specific pheromones and thus not something that humans could ever comprehend. Lockheed is the name that Kitty gave me, so it's the name that I identify myself with."

"If you say so," Piotr answered noncommittally. "Where were you, after Katya—after she sacrificed herself?"

"I mourned her in private," Lockheed answered. "I returned to my world—that's why I was forced to aid SWORD, so that they would provide me with the means to return to my homeworld. I was on the cusp of maturity for my species, but required specific elements and nutrients that could only be found in my world to complete the process. Rather like salmon swimming upstream to spawn in the river of their hatching. Without those elements, I would be unable to fully mature, and would likely die within a year."

"And now you have matured?" Piotr asked.

Lockheed nodded his wide flat head once. "Don't worry, this is as large as I get. By maturity, I simply refer to being able to mate with a female of my species, and to more fully communicate. I was unable to speak as coherently as I do now before my maturation. Once the process was done, all I desired was to return to Earth, which had become my true home. I needed to make amends for lying to Kitty, even if she'd never know the truth. When I returned, I paid my respects to SWORD, and learned from Agent Brand that they were planning to rescue Kitty. So here I am." He snorted a tiny steam cloud out of his nostrils. "I can only hope that she'll forgive me for my betrayal."

"Don't worry, my friend," Piotr truly smiled for the first time in months, "I'll put in a good word for you." Man and dragon turned silently back to the view screen, contemplating the star that they were heading for.

The muffled hiss of the airlock door opening behind him knocked Peter out of his reverie, and he and Lockheed turned to see Logan and Kurt enter the observation lounge. "I was wondering where you'd disappeared to, Petey," Logan rasped gently. "Scott wanted me to tell you that we would be within range of the bullet in about four hours. He thought you might want to rest up before then."

"Believe me," Piotr answered, "if rest were a viable option I would take it. As it is, I am too wound up."

"I understand, mein freund," Kurt nodded slowly. "The anticipation, the waiting. Emma and Erik are in deep meditation right now, since they feel their powers will be taxed to the limits. Your powers won't be taxed, but your mind may be."

"I am aware of what must be done," Piotr turned away from his friends and back toward the faint image of Kasterborous on the screen. "I want to know that she's there. And yet, I don't want to know. Does that make sense?"

"Perfect," Logan chuckled ruefully. "We want to know she's there so we can save her, but we're afraid that we won't be able to. One of two things is going to happen in the next twenty-four, Pete; either we save her, or we know that she's gone. Either way, we'll know soon enough. Wanting or waiting ain't gonna change that."

Piotr glanced back at Logan, weighing his characteristically gruff wording. "Katya and I made love that night," he finally exhaled after much thought. "Less than twenty-four hours before she phased into the Breakworld bullet." He scanned Logan's face, seeking some sign of disapproval or anger from Kitty's foster father. Finding no anger in Logan's saturnine face, he continued; "Ahrganne and Dafi gave us shelter in their hospital. Katya had been distant from me, closed up since that disaster with Cassandra Nova. I remember being tired, confused by what I'd been through since arriving on Breakworld. As I was preparing to sleep, she stepped out from behind the curtain—" He shuddered briefly as he remembered seeing her nude figure standing before him. "In all my life I've never seen anything so beautiful as her body standing before me. Her face had this strange mix of desire and trepidation, innocence and seduction. Nine parts angel, one part devil. After, as she lay in my arms, she told me, 'If Happy comes along—that weird, unbearable delight that's actual Happy—I think you have to grab it while you can. You take what you can get, 'cause it's here, and then…'" He stood silently, turning his head away before anyone could see the tears that were beginning to form.

Kurt approached Piotr and placed a two-fingered hand on Piotr's. "Katchen wouldn't want you to stop living, Peter," he assured him. "She was saving the world for you. For all of us as well, but mainly for you. She wouldn't want you to throw your life away."

Piotr breathed slowly, the saltwater welling in the corners of his eyes again. "I just got my life back, Kurt," Piotr shook his head, dark memories hovering in the back of his mind. "I thought I was doing the right thing, sacrificing myself to save the world from Legacy. But instead I was locked in a prison, unable to escape, until Katya freed me. Now it is Katya who is imprisoned, after sacrificing herself to save the world, and I must help save her. Almost poetic, isn't it?"

"Just remember, Pete," Logan announced, his normally whisky-rough voice oddly soothing, like a familiar shirt or a favorite pair of shoes. "You ain't alone. You got us."

"The Three Musketeers, together again?" Piotr quipped dryly.

"Why not?" Kurt asked, his yellow eyes opening slightly. "I always thought that the Three Musketeers was a perfect analogy for us. You," he gestured to Piotr, "Athos, the serious, laconic warrior, driven by honor. Logan," he pointed his thumb toward his closest friend, "Porthos, the hearty brawler, the first one into the fray, and usually the first one into the bar to celebrate victory. And myself," he took a theatrical bow, "Aramis, the jovial swashbuckler guided by his faith. Three different personalities, bound by the cause they share."

"All for one and one for all, huh," Logan mused. "Works for me, Elf. Course, that does leave us one short, don't it? If I'm Porthos, Pete's Athos and you're Aramis, who does that make D'Artagnan?" Kurt's brows furrowed slightly as he found himself pondering Logan's question.

After a few seconds of silence, Piotr asked, "Katya?" Hearing him use his affectionate pet-name for Kitty, four eyes trained on Piotr.

"Hmm," Kurt's smile bore a trace of his usual mischief. "I don't recall D'Artagnan and Athos being quite that close."

"I'm serious, Kurt," Piotr raised his voice slightly, but not with anger; he knew that Kurt was, as ever, attempting to coax a laugh out of him, and there was no malice in his humor. "I remember reading the original Dumas in Gospodin Xavier's World Lit class. D'Artagnan arrived in Paris at a time when the Musketeers were at their lowest point, forced to disband on orders of King Louis and Cardinal Richelieu. Dispirited, disheartened, their morale all but destroyed, D'Artagnan brought them back together, reminded them what they were fighting for and rallied them back to action."

"True," Logan agreed, seeing where Piotr was leading. "And when Kitty first showed up on our doorstep, we were at our lowest point ever as a team, after Jean died and Scott quit the team. I remember how mad I was when Charlie named me as her 'mentor'. Scrawny little kid from the 'burbs, didn't think she'd last more than two weeks with the team. Turned out she could be as tough as any of us."

"And while you were training her, making her a worthy member of the X-Men," Kurt agreed, "she was making you human again. I remember the first time she underwent an exercise in the Danger Room; her goal was to cross the room, getting past the assorted obstacles. She just closed her eyes, stayed phased and walked forward." He began to chuckle slightly. "You know, Logan, I think that was the first time I ever saw you laugh. She brought out some deeper core of humanity in you, mein freund, something that none of us ever saw before."

"She brought out the best in all of us," Logan answered. "In many ways, she was the best of us. She didn't just save the world, bub. She gave us a world worth saving." Logan turned toward the view screen, noting the slowly enlarging star in the upper right corner. "I know you can't hear me, Punkin," he announced, "but I promise you, if there's any way of getting you out of that blasted bullet, I'll do whatever it takes to get you back!"

"We all will, Katchen," Kurt added. "The four Musketeers will be together again."

"So say we all, Katya," Piotr vowed, standing beside two closest comrades. He held his hand forward, shouting, "All for one!"

Logan and Kurt placed their right hands on Piotr's, completing the age-old motto: "AND ONE FOR ALL!"

* * *

San Francisco, California:

"Man, I should be up there with them," Hisako groused, repeatedly switching channels on the large flatscreen TV in the Institute's rec room. "I mean, I'm a full-fledged X-Man, right? I was there when Kitty phased the bullet, right?"

"Believe me, young one," Ororo consoled the fiery-tempered Japanese mutant as she glanced out the window; San Francisco's moderately warm summers were certainly different than New York, or Wakanda. "I share your concern. But given the small crew that Agent Brand agreed to assign to this mission, she had to choose carefully."

"Yeah, right," Hisako sulked silently. "Don't tell me you don't wish you were there."

"I wouldn't tell you any such thing, Hisako," Ororo declared. "I wish I was up there as much as you do. However, my powers are limited in the vacuum of space, and much more difficult to control. Besides, someone has to help Rogue manage the Institute while Scott and Emma are away."

"And speaking of whom," Hisako observed as the X-Men's resident steel magnolia Rogue chased Victor Borkowski, the young reptilian mutant codenamed Anole, into the rec room. "Hate to interrupt, 'Ro," Rogue said suddenly, "but Vic's gettin' wound up about something."

"Your majesty," Vic suddenly bowed reverentially toward Ororo, "something's wrong with Ruth."

Ororo regarded Victor with an amused smirk. "Victor," the former X-Men leader and current Queen of Wakanda answered, "there's no need to stand on ceremony with me. Please, 'Ororo' or 'Mrs. T'Challa' will do nicely. Now then," she continued, "What's the problem with Ruth?"

"She's flipping out," Victor answered as he headed back toward the door. "I was just talkin' to her and she started to freak. I think she's getting one of her visions."

"Visions?" Ororo asked. She still hadn't been able to catch up on the precise powers of all of Scott's students.

"Ruth Aldine," Rogue filled her in as they followed Vic down the hall. "She's one of Scott's New X-Men. Calls herself Blindfold. She's got no eyes, but she's a telepath and can see the future sometimes. Sweet kid, but kinda hard to talk to, especially when she has her visions. Reminds me a little of Irene, actually."

Ororo kept quiet counsel at Rogue's words; Irene Adler was the lover and partner of Raven Darkholme, aka the murderous changeling Mystique, and even though Adler was long dead, anything associated with Mystique and her numerous betrayals of both Rogue and the X-Men still touched a nerve too raw and ugly for Rogue to deal with; it was safe to say that there was only one person in this world whom Rogue truly hated, and that person was Raven Darkholme.

Ororo blotted that thought out of her mind as Vic led them to Ruth's quarters. She sat in lotus-position, her hands in her lap, a cloth in blue Japanese silk around her head, covering the blank spaces where her eyes should have been, her lips moving erratically, frantically whispering. "Not a tomb, an egg, not a tomb, an egg," she repeated to herself.

"Hey, Ruth?" Rogue stood in front of the young girl and faced her. She placed her gloved hands over Ruth's hands, gently urging her out of her fugue state. "You okay in there? You see something?"

"Yes, Miss Rogue, thank you," Ruth answered, her voice sounding somewhat disjointed. As one whose mind was frequently hours or even weeks ahead of others, she occasionally had difficulty thinking, or speaking, in the here and now. "I did see something, very much. They're trying to find her. Miss Pryde."

"Yes," Ororo answered. "Scott and the others are out now, trying to save Miss Pryde."

"They'll find her," Ruth announced, her face oddly serene, though she seemed to be aware of everything in this room except the two women who were with her. "But they won't find her."

Ororo shook her head, trying to make sense of Ruth's cryptic pronouncements. "Are you saying that they won't be able to save her?" she asked desperately, not wanting to know if her fears were justified.

"They will save her, thank you," Ruth answered, her voice in a vague sing-song quality, "and she'll save them. But they'll not save her. Or they'll save not her. Not the same one—" her voice faded slightly, before a gasp broke out of her mouth. "Fire and life incarnate—" she whispered hoarsely. "Fire and life incarnate..."

Ororo began to feel dizzy, trapped, as though her long-dormant claustrophobia was kicking in, and Ruth's bedroom was suddenly too small for her. She staggered slightly as she made her way out of the room and into the hallway, where she had to lean against a wall to prevent her legs from buckling under her.

"Whoa," Rogue lifted Ororo up, supporting her weight. "Steady now, 'Ro, I gotcha."

"Many thanks, Rogue," Ororo nodded, her voice ragged with fear.

"What's the matter, 'Ro?" Rogue asked. "You're lookin' as skittish as a cat in a roomful of rockin' chairs."

"Forgive me," Ororo replied, willing herself to calm, controlling her voice. "It was what Ruth said. 'Fire and life incarnate'. I heard those words before, my friend," she explained, a shudder of anxiety shaking her frame. "The one who spoke those words would in time become the X-Men's greatest nemesis, and our greatest tragedy."

Rogue stared hard at Ororo as the implications of her words became clear. "You ain't sayin'..."

"I am, child," Ororo intoned, in the same tone of voice as someone warning of the imminent arrival of a hurricane. "Jean Grey spoke those words. When she first became the Phoenix."


	4. Convergence

Chapter four

Convergence

_"By the data to date, there is only one animal in the Galaxy dangerous to man--man himself. So he must supply his own indispensable competition. He has no enemy to help him."_

_--Robert A. Heinlein, "Time Enough For Love"_

* * *

He slouched in his throne, gnawing at a hangnail, staring at the star charts before him, showing the progress of the Shi'ar Fleet in their various campaigns, recalling the words of the infamous Roman emperor Caligula; "Would that the Roman people had but one neck."

Gabriel Summers, aka Vulcan, Majestor of the Shi'ar Empire read the status reports from his generals with detached interest. As he had promised the people he now governed, the Empire was expanding as never before. Soon it would reach an absolute apex, encompassing and enslaving every sentient race within the quadrant.

Within a matter of months, he would focus all of that power on Earth, his abandoned home world...and then laugh as both humanity and the Shi'ar fell to utter destruction. A perfect revenge, he reasoned, against the two worlds that betrayed him.

His attention was suddenly focused on the central holo-screen; a large cigar-shaped object seemed to be orbiting a nondescript gas giant outside of the Empire's current borders. "Battle computer," he barked, "Identify that object on the main screen."

"Object is a missile," the computer answered in clipped formal English; Vulcan had ordered his personal computers to respond in English, and had personally executed one technician who accidently allowed Shi'ar words to slip through the translation matrix. "Substance unknown, but not indigenous to the Shi'ar. Scanner probes are nearby and being dispatched to the missile."

"Good," Vulcan mused sullenly. "So it's not from around here. Any indication of its origin?"

"Subspace communication satellites have tracked this object as having emerged from the Sol system," the compter answered.

"So it came from the Earth?"

"Negative," the computer replied. "From subspace communications received by our spy satellites, the object passed through the Earth via a world many light years away, on the opposite side of Sol from the Shi'ar. Scan complete," the computer chirped suddenly, displaying schematics and scan analyses. "Object is roughly sixteen kilometers in length and weighs approximately ten million metric tons. The metal itself is exceptionally dense. It's likely that even the Shi'ar's most powerful energy cannons wouldn't be able to make a dent in it."

Vulcan observed the metal missile with growing interest. For such an object to fall into his lap was certainly fortuitous. "Computer, you said that the object passed through the Earth?"

"Affirmitave, Majestor. According to subspace communications from Earth's SWORD signal array, the missile was created as a weapon and fired at the Earth like a bullet at faster-than-light velocity."

"So the Earth is destroyed?" Vulcan's face took on a madman's leer.

"Negavite, Majestor. The bullet's sole occupant was a Terran mutant known to the Shi'ar databanks as Shadowcat, aka Katherine Pryde. She deployed her power to render the bullet intangible."

"Pity," he muttered, almost casually. "Now I have to go and destroy the Earth myself. Computer, estimate how many warships could be manufactured from the metal of that missile."

"Approximately 6,550, Majestor," the computer replied dutifully.

That was all the information he needed. "Send an order to all squadrons in the vicinity of that star! I want that missile! Have them tow it to the home-world, immediately!"

"Majestor," the computer advised him, "Fifteen flagships with full tractor beams would be sufficient to lodge the missile out of its orbit and tow it through a star-gate."

"Send fifteen flagships," Vulcan commanded, "and five Dreadnoughts to protect them." After a moment's thought, he added, "The mutant Shadowcat. She died within the bullet, I trust?"

After a moment, the computer answered, "Scan for life signs complete. Nascent mental activity within the missile indicates that the mutant Shadowcat is alive. According to sensor sweeps, her molecular structure is fused with the metal itself, rendering her immobile."

Vulcan digested this last piece of information, and began to chuckle at the thought. "By a single act," he mused, "I'll murder one of Xavier's soldiers and sign the death warrant of the world she sacrificed herself to protect." His smile carried the warmth and sensitivity of a shark after smelling blood. "It's good to be the king."

His maniacal laughter echoed like gunfire through the hallways of his palace.

* * *

Somewhere in Shi'ar space:

"Damn and blast!" a guttural voice cursed from underneath the warp drive of the Starjammer. Sparks flew and energy arced between two fried couplings.

"Trouble, Korvus?" the athletically built redhead asked sardonically.

"Nothing that a complete overhaul cannot fix, Rachel," Korvus pulled himself out from under the drive engine and faced his love. "I have it running for now, but I cannot guarantee that my repairs will hold."

"So the ship's being held together by bailing wire and good intentions," Rachel squatted down to meet Korvus as he lifted himself to a sitting position. His black feather-like hair, normally spiked, was matted down with perspiration, and his rough-hewn features were smudged.

Rachel Grey gave Korvus a knowing look. Their relationship was certainly one of the more unexpected events of both their recent lives. Korvus had been a prisoner much of his life, given a chance at freedom only if he agreed to kill the current host of the Phoenix, and was given the enormous sword, Blade of the Phoenix, to kill Rachel Grey. The next to last thing either of them expected was for the blade to forge a psychic bond between them.

The very last thing they expected was for that bond to become emotional as well. The bond was the last thing Rachel wanted to deal with. She had to worry about saving Alex, Lorna and the rest of the Starjammers first, and then deal once and for all with the psychotic emperor of the Shi'ar. Gabriel Summers, Vulcan.

"Don't worry, Korvus," Rachel assured the Shi'ar warrior. "Lilandra and I scanned the immediate area. There's a knot of colony planets ahead. We should be able to locate some decent spare parts."

"That is assuming that there isn't a bounty on our heads. Which I have no doubt has been provided by Emperor Vulcan," Korvus spat out the name as though it were poison on his tongue. A sentiment Rachel shared. The fact that Gabriel Summers was Scott Summers' brother was, as far as she was concerned, an unfortunate accident of genetics. And one she hoped to rectify if their paths ever crossed again.

"We'll get the parts, Korvus," the former X-Man assured him. "Then we'll go back to the Shi'ar homeworld, free Alex, Lorna and the rest of the crew, take down Vulcan and reinstate Lilandra on the throne once and for all."

"Of course," Korvus scoffed as he lifted himself to his feet and headed toward the main bridge. "Will we accomplish this before or after our executions?"

"You're such a pessimist," Rachel teased as she joined him on his way to the bridge.

"Rachel, Korvus," Lilandra raised her voice in greeting as the two set foot on the main bridge. "I was going to call for you."

"My empress?" Korvus bowed deeply in a sign of respect. Rachel's posture was more guarded, less respectful; at this time Lilandra was no more Majestrix of the Shi'ar than Rachel was. And given that one of her last acts as Majestrix was to order the assassinations of the surviving members of the Grey family, the only true family she had left on Earth, did little to win any support from Rachel. But for the time being, they were united by a common enemy. Strange bedfellows indeed.

"What's the situation, Lilandra?" Rachel asked as she took her seat at the main helm console.

"I've been secretly monitoring communications from the home-world," Lilandra reported. "Vulcan is on the move. He's sent a small squadron of warships to a star outside of Shi'ar space, to retrieve an object that appears to have fallen into orbit."

"Can you show me where this star is?" Rachel asked, as Korvus took his seat beside her.

"Here," Lilandra manipulated the helm scanners for a second. A hologram appeared before them, showing the star in three dimensions. "Here's the star, and this object," she indicated a cigar-shaped object in orbit around the star, "appears to be their objective."

"What is that?" Korvus asked. "A weapon? A vessel of some kind?"

"Wait," Rachel called out suddenly. "I'm sensing something...there's something living in that object, a mind..." Korvus kept silent; even with the psionic bond he shared with Rachel, he couldn't fully gage the vast mental powers she commanded as the Phoenix.

Suddenly, Rachel bolted rigidly upright, her eyes wide as baseballs. And the fates of the captive Starjammers suddenly took a distant second in her priorities.

"Lilandra!" she shouted. "I have to go intercept the fleet. I need to find that object, now!"

Her body glowed a faint blue, the energies of the Phoenix Force suffusing her being, and Korvus sensed the energy build-up as well. "What is it, Rachel?" Korvus asked. "Why the sudden urgency?"

Rachel turned to Korvus, her face set in a mask of grim determination, and spoke only one word before rushing to the airlock;

"Kitty!"

* * *

"Captain Brand," Helmsman Goldblum reported as she strode onto the deck of the Abdul Alhazred, Hank McCoy following behind, "we're closing in on Kasterborous."

"Finally," Brand breathed as she stood behind the helm chair. "Can you give me a visual?"

"Visual scanners are online, Captain," Goldblum confirmed, pressing a space on the touch-sensitive control console before him. The main screen displayed an image of the enormous reddish disk that was Kasterborous.

Hank took his seat next to the helmsman and scanned the stellar body that now dominated the main bridge. "According to the Hertzsprung-Russell diagram," McCoy commented as he observed the star, "Kasterborous is a red super-giant star." Reading the scanners next to the main screen, he continued, "Roughly 55 times the mass of Earth's sun, and as stars go, relatively cool, radiating a surface temperature of approximately 3,500 degrees Kelvin."

"And me without my parka," Brand groused. "And the fact that the star in question is a giant may indicate why the bullet was drawn into its orbit, if I remember my Newtonian physics correctly."

"Indeed, Agent Brand," Hank nodded. "The larger the stellar body, the greater its gravitational pull. From the readings I'm getting from your scanners, the local gravitational and magnetic fields have slowed the bullet down considerably once it neared the star, allowing it to smoothly enter orbit." He harrumphed slightly. "So far, luck is with us."

Brand said nothing in reply to Hank's comment. She fixed her gaze to the main view screen. "Goldblum," she spoke in measured tones, "give me a coordinate grid."

"Right away, Captain," Another touch on the keypad and the screen was subdivided into squares by thin white lines of light. Each row of squares bore a letter to the left, starting with 'A', while each column was topped with a number, from '1' onward. It rather reminded Brand of a spreadsheet, except what she was looking for was far more important than a budget discrepancy. She scanned the screen before her, until she noted something on the right side of the screen...

"Coordinate G-15!" Brand barked. "Magnify and enhance!" One second later, the single coordinate space filled the screen, its vague pixels suddenly coalescing into a visible shape, framed against the matte black of space behind it. The rod-shaped object gleamed dimly in the reddening light of the gas giant it orbited.

"We have a positive confirmation," Hank announced, hope suffusing his voice. "The object is a mass of solid Prydonium, ten miles long, one-point-five miles in diameter, with a hollow space toward the tip, roughly 1000 cubic meters large. We've found her."

Brand spared a pleased grin for a split-second; so far, the mission was going as planned.

"Hello, Kitty," she greeted the bullet. "Hank, tell Erik, Emma and Peter that they're on. If luck's still with us, let's go all in."

* * *

_Author's note: Short chapter this time around as I introduce a few more players onto the field. There's an old rule of drama; first you put your character up a tree, then you throw rocks at the tree. Vulcan is the biggest rock I could find right about now. The rescue will begin next chapter, but it won't be smooth sailing._


End file.
